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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24064528">I'm not afraid of God, I am afraid of Man</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/procrastinatingbookworm/pseuds/procrastinatingbookworm'>procrastinatingbookworm</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bad BDSM Etiquette, Body Horror, Dark, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Eyes, M/M, Masturbation, Medical Kink, Medical Procedures, Sadism, Torture, Trans Jonathan Fanshawe, Trans Male Character, Unhealthy Relationships</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:08:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,050</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24064528</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/procrastinatingbookworm/pseuds/procrastinatingbookworm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonah Magnus, in the midst of his transformation to an Avatar of the Ceaseless Watcher, seeks out his estranged friend, Dr. Jonathan Fanshawe, for help. Jonathan is... more or less pleased to see him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jonathan Fanshawe/Jonah Magnus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Associated Articles Regarding One Jonah Magnus</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I'm not afraid of God, I am afraid of Man</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jonathan is cleaning up the operating table, just about to go home for the day, when someone starts to pound on the clinic door.</p><p>He thinks about ignoring whoever it is—he’s been awake since sunrise, and he can’t be sure how late it is now, just that he desperately wants to go home and to bed. </p><p>But no one pounds on the door of a clinic when it’s dark enough to barely distinguish the building from the ones around it on a lark.</p><p>Jonathan’s duty is to the people, no matter how tired he may be.</p><p>When he opens the clinic door and Jonah Magnus stumbles inside, Jonathan almost shoves him right back out.</p><p>But Jonah is hunched over on himself, his whole body trembling, clutching at his stomach and throat in turns.</p><p>Something sings in Jonathan’s chest, suspended between his shock and his instinctive worry. It’s a bright, sharp-edged glee, rising up at the sight of Jonah, egotist extraordinaire, brought low by some betrayal of his own body.</p><p>“They’re in me,” Jonah is saying, nearly wheezing. “They’re in me, they’re inside me, they’re <em> in </em> me.”</p><p>Jonathan automatically takes him by the shoulders. “What are in you? What are you doing here?”</p><p>“<em> Eyes, </em>” Jonah gasps, finally straightening up. There’s a gash on his cheek, weeping blood down his cheek. Inside the cut, something moves.</p><p>Jonathan remembers, with painful vividness, Albrecht Von Closen’s body, eyes growing from every surface within him. He stumbles, nearly dragging Jonah to the floor.</p><p>“You have to help me,” Jonah pants, grabbing Jonathan by the front of his shirt. “They need to open. I can’t do it myself.”</p><p>Jonathan steadies himself with a few deep breaths. “You’re asking me to cut you open, Jonah?”</p><p>Jonah nods, and that settles it.</p><p>Jonathan pulls Jonah down the hallway, stripping him as he goes. The motions are very similar as to when they would sleep together, even if Jonathan is angrier, and Jonah more frantic.</p><p>Up close, pushing Jonah down on the operating table, Jonathan can see lumps beneath his skin, bulging like tumors. They cover his whole body, ranging from the size of marbles to the size of a fist.</p><p>“Cut them open,” Jonah pleads, when Jonathan just stares.</p><p>Jonathan takes his scalpel from the tray beside the table, lays the tip at one end of a particularly large lump on Jonah’s stomach, and before he can second-guess himself, carves the skin open.</p><p>An eye stares up at him. It’s a dark hazel, eerily similar to Jonathan’s own eyes. It swivels in its strange socket, blinking with the neatly carved edges of flesh, blood running down from the corners of it like tears.</p><p>Jonah grits his teeth, whining high and pained, like a dog.</p><p>Jonathan cuts open another lump, this one just above Jonah’s hip, to the same result—a blinking eye, and beautiful sounds from Jonah.</p><p>A thrill goes through him, as deep as a vivisection, throat to heart to groin. There are dozens of eyes waiting to open. They’re as plentiful as Jonah’s freckles, scattered across his body.</p><p>Jonathan sets the scalpel down and picks up the heavy leather straps attached to the table. He straps Jonah down, wrists and ankles, across his forehead, and a thinner strip over his mouth, to muffle his voice. </p><p>Jonah fights the restraints, but Jonathan persists anyway</p><p>switches the scalpel to his off hand, picks up a pair of scissors, and gets to work.</p><p>Jonah’s whining dissolves into sobbing whimpers as Jonathan works across his torso, then down each limb, cutting the eyes open, letting them blink free.</p><p>Blood oozes steadily from each fresh wound. It stains Jonah’s flesh, pools on the table, drips to the floor. The eyes blink in a ripple across Jonah’s skin.</p><p>When he’s cut open every eye on the front of Jonah’s body, Jonathan pauses, setting his tools down and looking at his subject.</p><p>Jonah is chewing fretfully on the gag, tears trickling from his eyes (just the two on his face, so far, the rest being busy bleeding).</p><p>Jonathan reaches into his trousers and through the opening in his underwear, pressing his fingers to his slit. He groans, long and low, and Jonah’s eyes all immediately dart toward him.</p><p>“I like hurting you even more now,” Jonathan confesses, thumbing at his cock until sensation shoots up his spine.</p><p>Jonah makes a low sound. There are sealed eyes on his face, too, nearly symmetrical, except for the one in the center of his forehead, and the one at the right corner of his mouth like a cold sore.</p><p>“You were always beautiful,” Jonathan continues, growing breathless as he rubs at himself. “Always. But I love you best like this. Hurting. Screaming. <em> Crying </em> for me. You pathetic little wretch.”</p><p>Jonah might make some sound in response, but Jonathan doesn’t hear him. He’s too busy coming hard into his hand.</p><p>When Jonathan comes back to himself, most of Jonah’s eyes are shut, and the bright blood has dried dark and sticky on the table.</p><p>Jonah is pliant when Jonathan unstraps him and flips him over to take care of the eyes on his back. He sobs beautifully, loud without the gag, gasping Jonathan’s name between pleas for mercy.</p><p>Careless of the bloody mess he’s just made of Jonah’s back, Jonathan flips him back onto his front, leaning over his face.</p><p>Jonah’s face is wrecked blood and tears, his auburn curls sticking to his face with sweat. Jonathan wipes some of the mess away with his sleeve, lowering the scalpel to trace over Jonah’s cheek.</p><p>“I could kill you, Jonah,” Jonathan whispers, slicing open the lump beneath Jonah’s left eye, then the right. “Right here. With my tools. You’d deserve it, too.”</p><p>Jonah nods absently. Jonathan keeps cutting; the eyes on each temple are next. Jonah is unfortunately much less responsive now, drifting away from himself as the pain overwhelms him.</p><p>Jonathan slashes open the cold-sore eye at the corner of Jonah’s mouth, and Jonah <em> screams. </em></p><p>Jonathan steps back as Jonah arches off the table, trembling, throwing himself back and forth as if he can escape the pain.</p><p>His thrashing builds, peaks, and then slows. Finally, Jonah slumps into unconsciousness, and Jonathan slumps with him.</p><p>Blood drips onto the floor.</p><p>Jonah slips his hand into his trousers.</p>
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